


The Ballroom

by mssrj_335



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bad Flirting, College Student Castiel, College Student Gabriel, Crack, Guitarist!Dean, M/M, Metal band, Punk!Dean, Tattooed!Sam, all these exclamation points are killing me, basically an excuse to get sam into tight pants and goth makeup, but that's who i'm thinking of, cas drags gabriel to his boyfriend's metal concert, drummer!kevin, frontman!sam, gabriel meets sam, goth!Sam, kevin and charlie are barely there, sam objectification, synth player!charlie, the crackiest crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-14 22:44:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5761744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mssrj_335/pseuds/mssrj_335
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>very crack-ish and nothing substantial at all.  </p><p>Castiel drags Gabriel to see his boyfriend's metal band in a local concert. Gabriel is hating his life until he discovers just how sexy goth can look </p><p>>________></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ballroom

**Author's Note:**

> think protest the hero or manus mortis, a local band from springfield mo for the sound I'm going for

Noise.  It was all just fucking _noise_. Gabriel couldn’t believe he’d let Castiel drag him up here to this tiny little hole in the wall to listen to a bunch of devilclown-cosplaying fuckwits scream at him.  He drowned himself in an overpriced swig of beer as the bands were changing and that was when his gaze was caught and he had to ask:  

 

Who.

 

The fuck.

 

Was that?

 

Through the smoky haze in that cheap little run-down club, he saw him sauntering on stage in tight red-and-black striped pants.  And.  AND, he was topless.  The tattoos running down his arms were stark and black and completely indiscernible from the chairs at the bar, but the gigantic pirate ship inked onto the flesh of his chest was pretty fucking obvious, thank you very much.  Shirtless had his long hair tied back in a bun for now and he was chatting to someone under the dim purple stage lights.  _God_ , the curve of his ass was definitely defying gravity.  Maybe it was the dip in his back or the broadness of his shoulders but Gabriel was absolutely positive that the way _he_ was staring at all six foot something of the guy would be labeled ‘objectification’ in Castiel’s psych books.  

 

Speak of the devil, Castiel reappeared and jostled his shoulder as he took another drink of his beer to wet his otherwise very dry mouth.  

 

“Come on!” he said over the noise blaring from the speakers.  “They’re getting ready to start.”

 

Gabriel finished off his drink and followed behind, right up to the front of the stage.  Castiel braced his hands on the splintering wood and stared with a dreamy look on his face into the fog misting through the air.  Looked like maybe Cas’ little sojourn to the alley stoop included a flirtation or two with good old green Mary Jane.  Gabriel rolled his eyes intensely.  He wasn’t sure how Castiel didn’t die of bad vibes with this place and the thrashing music but hey.  He was having a good time and Gabriel wasn’t really in a place to judge.  

 

Shirtless and the rest of his troupe were finished, apparently, because a soft synth intro filtered through the speakers.  It caught Gabriel by surprise, honestly.  The beginning felt like something pulled from the depths of Blue Oyster Cult.  Four slow hits on the crash then—

 

—chaos.  Blast beats and bass guitar pounded in pandemonium over the speakers, the synth screeched, and the guitarist was shredding Satan’s scale before Shirtless strode onto the stage, pulled loose his hair tie, and started screaming. 

 

Gabriel flat out gasped and stared open-mouthed.  The other screamers hadn’t managed to capture his attention—and maybe this had something to do with the fact that Shirtless’s junk was about two feet from his face—but the sound that came out of his mouth was terrifying and spellbinding all at once.  He couldn’t understand a word of it but it didn’t really seem to matter.  Shirtless planted his feet and bent back, supine against gravity.  His voice was a demonic high and low.  So much so that, jesus, he sounded like two people.  

 

Shirtless untangled the microphone from the stand and moved to stand by the guitarist that Cas was making eyes at, shaking like some kind of man possessed.  Abruptly, the insane pace of the song dropped out and everyone in the band instantly dropped six inches into a squat under the weight of a jarring minor chord.  Shirtless bent, legs splayed, thighs taut against the fabric of his painted-on pants then he was pulled up like a marionette.  The rest of the band followed.  They rose as a corpse revived and slammed into the next chord.  

 

The frontman sauntered back and braced one black combat boot on the speaker, effectively putting his dick out for everyone to see.  Even the visually impaired would follow the V of his hips and the trail of dark hair down into the waistband of his pants for that dick.  And, like Gabriel, everyone fucking loved it.  The screamer rolled his hips slowly and growled out a verse before the insanity returned and he was reduced to a mindless howl.  Much to Gabriel’s relief, the dude didn’t _bark_ at the end of his stanzas and—surprise—his demonic screeching was beginning to be interspersed with a low and tight tenor.    

  

Up this close, Gabriel could see his lip was pierced with a thin black hoop and eyes stared back from under his ear.  The tattoos on his mic arm were galaxies and stars, his right adorned with a Biblical, deathly mosaic.  Other tattoos littered his fingers and his body, and the screamer’s face was painted, black smudges reminiscent of the Winter Soldier darkening his eyes and inky red lipstick staining his lips.  He’d taken a page from Marilyn Manson and wore one striking, ice-blue contact in his left eye.  That Gabriel had apparently caught.  And damn if that didn’t make a little shiver run down his spine when he held that mismatched gaze.  Maybe it was because he was dressed like a reasonable human being and staring slack-jawed, but Shirtless crept over and crouched in front of Gabriel.  He tucked his heavy boots underneath his perfect ass and got right into Gabriel’s face.  One tattooed hand reached out and threaded gently into Gabriel’s hair, then pulled tight and dragged him forward so their foreheads were touching.

 

Being able to see the singer’s mouth moving but not hearing anything but what was coming from the speakers was equally jarring and fascinating.  Or maybe it was just that his mouth was fascinating.  Either or, Gabriel decided.  The frontman smelled like clean sweat, patchouli, and gin and it made Gabriel lick his lips.  Shirtless smiled sharply and rolled up from the floor so fast and so close that Gabriel was pretty sure that dick had just tipped his nose.  But only tipped.

 

Then, he ignored him for the rest of the set.  Every time Gabriel threw a glance his way, he was facing the opposite way or hiding behind his tangled hair or squeezing his eyes shut in rapture.  At last, the band came down from their set and started stowing equipment off in the corner.  Cas had nearly sprinted to the bar and he returned with seven drinks loaded onto a tray.  When finally they were done, Shirtless and company stepped outside into the humid summer air, Castiel tucked under the guitarist’s arm.  Cas waved for him to follow.

 

He stepped out into the night and was immediately disappointed to find that Shirtless was once again shirted.  The group was chatting with a group of people standing outside and Gabriel despaired of the dimples he found when the frontman smiled at them.  The guitarist had Cas pushed up against the wall and there was decidedly no room left for Jesus there.  Gabriel huffed a laugh to himself.  Well, with no Cas to buffer, it was time to talk to these maniacs one-to-one.  Gabriel shunted to the side through the group until he found who he was looking for.

 

“You were really something up there!” he called.  

 

The tall frontman turned away from his small posse, body hidden under a plain white shirt, to see who’d made the comment.  When he caught sight of Gabriel, a wide smile broke out over his face.     

 

 

“Think I managed to raise a demon with that set?” the singer asked as he tied his hair back into a bun.

 

 

Gabriel grinned wolfishly.  “Maybe,” he replied.  “But it’d be awful hard for him to show up with an angel like you around.”

 

The frontman’s laugh carried through the alleyway and into the street.  He excused himself from the people around him and closed the distance between Gabriel and himself.  He extended one tattooed hand.

 

“Sam,” he said, stepping in Gabriel’s space.  

 

“Gabriel.”

 

Sam’s handshake was warm and firm, and being as close as he was, Gabriel suddenly felt very, very small.  He cleared his throat.

 

“And who’s sticky lips over there?” he asked, throwing his head in Castiel’s direction.  His brother was still trapped against the wall but much to Gabriel’s vomit-inducing chagrin, the blue-haired guitarist looked to be tonsil’s deep in his baby bro’s throat.  

 

Sam winced and turned away.  “That would be my brother,” he said with an embarrassed look.  

 

"You're fucking joking," Gabriel exclaimed.  "The other is my brother."

 

Sam's brow wrinkled and he burst out laughing again, much to Gabriel's delight.

 

“What say you and I make like nice brothers and get the hell out of here?”

 

Sam chewed his lip piercing for just a moment in thought, then he shot Gabriel a sly look.  “I imagine,” he said, “that it would be extremely…frustrating if they had to stay and gather the cash, wouldn’t it?”

 

Gabriel returned his grin.  “Your place or mine?”

 

 

 

 

Later, when Gabriel had Sam pushed up into the pillows, dark red lipstick smearing his face, he ignored his phone buzzing on the bedside table that said Cas was calling.  After the pair lay spent and Gabriel found just how handsome Sam could be without his makeup in the heat of the shower, he decided maybe metal wasn't that bad.


End file.
